


The Parade

by NoOneKnowsIWriteThis



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Garak is paranoid and jumps to conclusions, Light Angst, M/M, Richard Bashir is useless and barely in the fic, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 05:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis/pseuds/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis
Summary: “Garak, at last. I am so sorry I kept you.” He smiled his most charming smile.Instead of reassuring him that it was alright or teasingly suggesting ways Julian could make up for it, Garak stood, his expression surprisingly grim.“I’m sorry too, Doctor.”





	The Parade

Julian rushed to his quarters as soon as he was able to get away from the infirmary. Garak was waiting for him there. They’d been trying to have this dinner since they escaped from Camp 371 and Julian had made his interests known.

 

Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to get in the way.

 

Julian had initially needed to reschedule because of the arrival of Doctor Zimmerman and the need to make arrangements for the LMH project. Then Julian’s parents had arrived, leading to another rescheduling and a night where Julian was not fit for any sort of company, let alone a man he was trying to impress.

 

This time, between emergencies and Doctor Zimmerman’s constant demands for his attention, he hadn’t been able to escape until nearly three hours after his shift had been scheduled to end, meaning he was over an hour late for his dinner with Garak.

 

His elaborate plans were completely spoiled. He’d just have to hope that Garak would accept a breathless apology and passionate declaration of love instead of storming off for being kept waiting.

 

The door to his quarters slid open to reveal Garak sitting on the couch. Julian hurried over to him.

 

“Garak, at last. I am so sorry I kept you.” He smiled his most charming smile.

 

Instead of reassuring him that it was alright or teasingly suggesting ways Julian could make up for it, Garak stood, his expression surprisingly grim.

 

“I’m sorry too, Doctor.”

 

Julian nearly frowned. After everything that had been said and implied to bring them to this point, in this moment Garak was addressing him simply as ‘Doctor’ with no endearment attached. That was a bad sign, and not the kind of thing Julian had been expecting considering they were supposed to be sorting out how they wanted their relationship to proceed.

 

“Oh,” Julian responded. He kept smiling and tried to salvage the situation. “Why don’t you sit down and…” Julian glanced at the table. The bottle of kanar he’d procured for this occasion already had a significant dent put in its contents. “Garak, are you drunk?”

 

“No, no, no.” Garak shook his head. He looked a bit worse for wear and he'd certainly had several glasses of kanar, but Julian suppressed his instinctive concern and let the man speak. “I need to make something perfectly clear.”

 

“Go ahead,” Julian prompted with a nod and a reassuring smile.

 

“Well, you know I’m a liberal-minded man.”

 

“Debateable,” Julian teased lightly, before immediately realizing that had been the wrong move when Garak shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

 

“Maybe not as liberal-minded as you’d like me to be, or as much as I w-would like me to be…for you.”

 

Julian leaned closer, trying to get a better look at Garak’s face while also trying to not crowd the man.

 

“Garak, what are you talking about?”

 

“The parade,” Garak burst out, clearly agitated. “The constant parade of Elaysian cartographers, of holographic women, of exotic beauties, and dabo girls, and...and people who wear scarves.” Garak held up the offending object in front of Julian’s face before dropping it onto the table. 

 

Julian recognized it instantly. His mother had been wearing it the last time she was in his quarters. Julian mentally cursed his parents for once again ruining his life.

 

“Garak, please,” he said, trying to regain control of the situation. He could fix this if he could just explain. He hadn't been with anyone since Leeta. He hadn't pushed Garak off in favor of someone else.

 

“I'm not going to sleep with you just so you can brag to your friends. I won't be your Cardassian  _ experience _ .” The final word was said with distaste. Garak straightened up and brushed off his tunic, projecting an air of wounded dignity. “Even if you want me to be. That's all I have to say.” Garak gave one of his infuriating head tilts and marched to the door. Julian followed right behind.

 

“Garak. Elim. Wait!” he pleaded. He grabbed Garak's arm, causing the other man to whirl towards him just as the door slid open. Before either of them could react, a phaser went off and Garak collapsed to the floor. For a moment Julian gaped in shock at the space where Garak had stood, then his brain processed what he saw. Standing in the doorway holding a phaser was his father.

 

“Are you alright, Jules?” he asked.

 

“What are you doing here?” Julian hissed as his father cautiously stepped over Garak’s unconscious body into the room, allowing the door to slide shut behind him.

 

To his credit, Richard Bashir did seem to realize that his presence was not appreciated.

 

“Well your mother left her scarf here, so I came to get it.” He glanced around the room and spotted the scarf lying on the table next to the kanar bottle and two glasses, one used and one clean.

 

Julian rolled his eyes as he knelt down to check on Garak. “It's on the table. Take it and leave. You've done enough damage.”

 

“I'm sorry for trying to protect you,” Richard said, clearly not sorry. “I thought, well... He's a Cardassian.” He hovered awkwardly nearby. “Would you like me to help?”

 

“I can handle this,” Julian said firmly.

 

“You’re sure?” The offer was clearly a half-hearted one.

 

“I'll manage.” With a shrug, Richard Bashir left.

 

Julian let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand over his face. Garak was fine, merely unconscious, but the combination of several glasses of kanar and a phaser blast meant that he was in for a miserable morning. Carefully using his full strength, Julian lifted Garak and carried him to the bed. He started to head to the replicator, but paused as he noticed Garak’s clothes.

 

Everything Garak wore was nice, but this outfit was particularly so. It was dark green, but the contrasting center t-shape was a blue so dark that it looked black except where it shimmered in the light. It even had the low and wide Cardassian neckline that Garak had favored less and less as the station's chill wore him down. The outfit was far too nice to sleep in.

 

Julian made his decision and went to the replicator, ordering not only a thick comforter, but also a set of warm pajamas. He went back to the bed and, reaching into his professional training, he removed Garak's clothes and dressed him in the pajamas. Then Julian placed the blanket over Garak’s sleeping form and carefully lay Garak's clothing on the nearby chair, so Garak could easily find it when he awoke.

 

His guest taken care of, Julian went back to the replicator and ordered some sheets and a pillow for the couch, where he would be spending the night.

 

\--

 

Garak awoke feeling like he'd been trampled by a pack of riding hounds. He slowly pushed himself up and was puzzled when he looked around and didn’t immediately recognize the room. As he tried to figure out where he was, he spotted his clothing laid out on a chair. Slowly, he looked down and realized that he was wearing a set of pajamas that weren’t his own.

 

Events from the previous evening began to trickle back. Julian had commed Garak to let him know that he’d be a bit late, but that Garak was welcome to wait in his quarters and help himself to the kanar Julian had procured.

 

As minutes drifted into an hour, Garak’s insecurities and paranoia had only grown. Surely Julian Bashir, a man who could have his pick of almost anyone on the station if he set his mind to it, wasn’t truly interested in pursuing something serious with a humble tailor and exiled spy. No, it made far more sense to Garak’s reasoning that Julian only wanted a quick fling, to check another species off on his list of sexual conquests.

 

And then he’d found the scarf.

 

It had lain on the floor, partially under the couch, both hidden enough to justify Julian not having noticed it and obvious enough that Garak felt like he should have. Julian, Garak knew, did not wear scarves outside of the rare holosuite costume, and furthermore Julian didn’t wear floral perfume.

 

The scarf had only fed into his belief that Julian wasn’t truly interested in him beyond a brief affair. The perfume was still fairly strong on it, meaning that it had likely been dropped recently. Perhaps one of their dinner cancellations had even been because Julian had found a more exciting prospect to pursue than a middle-aged Cardassian.

 

By the time Julian had finally arrived, Garak had already drank far more kanar than he’d planned. That’s why he’d thought voicing that speech was a good idea. He still had his self-respect; he wasn’t going to let Julian string him along if the end result was just a quick tumble in the sheets.

 

When he’d first met the young doctor he would have readily accepted a one-night stand or any sort of passing arrangement Julian wanted, but that was before he’d fallen in love with the man. Accepting such an arrangement now would mean that Garak was collecting details for his fantasies to torture himself with when Julian inevitably moved on.

 

Carefully, Garak worked his way out of the bed and over to the chair, where he got dressed. Then he sluggishly slipped into the main room.

 

Normally, Garak could silently cross a room with ease, but the hangover combined with the aftereffects of being shot with a phaser left him feeling disoriented, which was why he knocked into the table as he tried to sneak out.

 

“Garak?” A whisper came from the couch across the room. There, in the dim starlight, lay Julian in his striped blue pajamas. “Are you alright?” 

 

His escape attempt completely botched, Garak chose to deflect. “Perfectly fine. I’ll be out of your way soon enough.”

 

Julian let out a sigh. “Lights to 30 percent,” he commanded. Garak suppressed a hiss as the room brightened. Julian stood and made his way to the replicator. “Let me get you something for that hangover. This is my own variation, it works wonders,” he explained as he crossed to Garak’s side, hypospray in hand.

 

He held it out and raised his eyebrow in a silent question. Garak nodded and tilted his head to allow better access to his neck.

 

Julian’s concerned expression gave way to a tentative smile as he pulled the used hypospray away. “Could I interest you in breakfast? Since we wound up skipping dinner?”

 

Garak considered this. He could brush Julian off and retreat to the safety of his own quarters, but Julian’s eyes were so entreating and he was helpless against their pleas. “Very well,” he conceded. Julian’s triumphant grin was its own reward.

 

Julian cleared his bedding off of the couch and guided Garak to sit down. He crossed to the replicator and returned with a traditional Cardassian breakfast and rokassa juice, which he   placed in front of Garak, before returning to the replicator for his own meal. Julian watched as Garak tentatively took a bite before beginning to eat as well.

 

After a few moments of silence, Julian spoke. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said softly.

 

Garak paused, weighed his options, and decided to dig for more information. “I’m afraid my memories are incomplete. For instance, I have no idea how I ended up in your bed.” He lowered his utensils and stared at Julian, pinning the man with his gaze.

 

Julian frowned, though his displeasure wasn’t aimed at Garak. “My father shot you,” he said tightly. 

 

Garak blinked. That wasn’t an answer he’d been expecting. “Oh?” he asked, trying to play his confusion off as curiosity. “Who put me in pajamas?” Julian flushing and ducking his head answered that question.

 

“Well, I wasn’t going to leave you on the floor,” he insisted sheepishly. He fiddled with his food, his fork pushing it back and forth as he worked up the strength to look Garak in the eye again. “The scarf you found yesterday…”

 

Garak opened his mouth to speak, but the pleasantries about how the doctor didn’t have to explain anything and how Garak understood that Julian wasn’t truly interested in him died on his tongue as he saw the doctor’s gaze, so full of determination.

 

“It was my mother’s.” Julian paused, letting his words sink in. “Garak, I haven’t been with anyone since Leeta. And if I only wanted a one-night stand with you, I would have just said that ages ago.” Garak blinked, startled. Julian had cut straight to the heart of Garak’s concerns and dispatched them. Garak watched as Julian took a slow breath to steady himself. “I adore you, Garak. You’re brilliant and charming and witty, and I…” He paused, clearly holding himself back from rambling. “I’d like to give  _ us _ a try...if you’ll have me, that is.”

 

“If _ I’ll  _ have  _ you _ ?” Garak echoed as he processed exactly what he was being offered. Julian gave a nervous nod. “My dear,” he said softly, slowly reaching his hand out to cup Julian’s jaw, “I would like nothing more.”

 

Julian grinned, then he leaned forward and closed the distance between them, capturing Garak’s lips in a tender kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a scene from the amazing show Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries. I highly recommend checking it out because it's wonderful.


End file.
